


Fan Flirting

by Queer_Revolutionist



Category: American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Fluff, Johnisjustextra, M/M, flirtingwithfans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28822731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queer_Revolutionist/pseuds/Queer_Revolutionist
Summary: After indulging in some wine John Laurens entertains his friends, teaching Alexander Hamilton the subtle ways of fan language.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Fan Flirting

The men roar with delightful laughter, the Marquis’s wine tipping precariously in his glass, threatening to spill over the side as he grips a steadying hand on Richard Mead’s shoulder. “He could charm a room, eh?” he says, his cheeks flushed a rosey red from cheer and indulgence. 

The room, normally crowded with men retains a more spacious quality, only accommodating three of Geroge Washington’s Aides de Camp and one Marquis de Lafayette. In his Excellency’s absence the Frenchman, merry at the arrival of a supply ship, insisted on carting over a barrel of wine. Braving the cold had been well worth the effort as a brilliant fire now warmed the room. With his military family in good spirits, the bitter cold chased away and the antics of one John Laurens, the Marquis thought it a very fine night indeed. 

Alexander Hamilton, rambunctious and as agreeable as ever in such company, stands next to John, the subject of the duel theatrics they now witness. Richard laughs with his French companion, a hand placed on top of a table to brace himself as laughter seizes his body, his own glass of wine safely set aside. 

John, a brilliant blue silk fan in hand, snaps it closed in his right hand and gestures at Alexander who stands cheekily by his side. Alexander, glass half drunk, stands with an odd look on his face, one somewhere between amused and sly, as if he understood a joke no one else would. 

“Should I find your advances too forthcoming, Sir, I should perhaps feel inclined to present as such,” John brandishes the closed fan before him in his right hand, gesturing with it towards Alexander as he speaks. 

Alexander, the very example of a willing participant in this charade, grins. “I dare say, ‘too forthcoming’? You know nothing of me, Laurens, should this be your picture of my character.” 

At this the Marquis laughs in earnest. Withdrawing his hand from Richard’s shoulder he points an accusing finger at Alexander, his face still bright with humor. “Forthcoming could be your very description, Sir.” 

John, enjoying the turning of tides, drops the fan open and moves it to his left hand causing the Marquis to blush furiously while he still laughs richly. “Our Dear Marquis wouldn’t dare lie.” 

Alexander snorts indignantly, a hand placed on his hip with his wine glass held in hand. “And you, Kidder? Do you agree with such a pompous description?” 

Richard, his laughter now manageable, breathes in deeply, picking his glass up from the table. “Rather, I would think you bold-” he says, John interrupting with a loud hiss of protest. 

“Rather,” Richard begins again, “I’d think this forward nature of yours simply a testament of your candor.”

At this Lafayette scoffs and takes a sip of his wine while John, fan now closed, draws it across his forehead in the most dramatic manner. “Richard, I thought you an ally!” 

Richard laughs again, causing John to snap his fan open and closed with an affronted look. Alexander laughs at the action, not understanding the exact meaning but the undertone strong enough for assumption. “It seems your finesse is not as pacifying as you dared hope, Kidder.”

“Finesse aside!” Alexander starts as Richard begins to protest, coming up beside John who takes Alexander’s glass and a sip of his contents, “I would know, Laurens. Should I offend so, heaven forbid the delicate company of such a fine woman as yourself, how would you state as such?” Kidder and the Marquis laugh at this, the Marquis taking a moment to refill his glass with wine as their antics resume.

“A fine question, Sir, quite fine.” John replies, handing Alexander his glass back with eyes shining in delight. “One more run, if you will. To set the mood.” 

“Ah,” Alexander nods obediently, pulling laughter from their audience of two. “Mon plaisir, Madame.” 

Alexander steps back and clears his throat, straightening his cravat needlessly with his wine glass held elegantly in his hand. “Now, as matters would have it, you have found my warm nature and charming smile to be too forthcoming, I believe was your phrase.”

For whatever reason, be it the way Alexander stresses the word forthcoming or makes such a show of mock offence, the Marquis takes to laughing in earnest. Kidder gives him a brief look of concern, wondering momentarily if his friend is alright. The Marquis waves his concern away, unable to regain control of himself as John continues their theatrics. 

“Indubitably, Sir. As such,” John says, snapping the fan shut and brandishing it again. “Should my ministrations be so boldly denied,” he points the fan at Alexander, still closed as if he meant to shoo him away, “I will have to simply end our affair, like so.” John takes the fan in his left hand and presses the tip to his left ear, turning his head so slightly away from Alexander. “I wish to be rid of you, Sir.” 

John’s face, so well offended and dismissive, pulls a roaring laughter from all the men, the Marquis and Kidder leaning close to each other for support. Alexander’s face breaks into a smile, his eyes dancing with mischief although his expression screams delight. “Be rid of me? You do go on! Surely I don’t offend so!” 

With a quick glance at their friends, still overwhelmed with hysteria, John draws the fan from his ear across his cheek, then opens it and fans himself with a flutter. “I am certain some would think so.”

“Gentlemen…” A voice cuts through the room of laughter like steel. 

John snaps his fan shut and stands at attention with Alexander by his side. The Marquis and Kidder both set their drinks down with haste and stand to face their commander, Kidder with his hands behind his back and the Marquis offering a salute, both still red in the face with watery eyes. Each man barks their acknowledgement with a, “Sir” or an, “Your Excellency”.

Washington removes his cloak from his shoulders, his wife Martha behind him at his side. With his winter wear draped over an arm he takes in the sight of his most trusted men. John, with cheeks powdered white for show and a fan clutched in hand. Kidder and the Marquis stand with flushed faces, Kidder with spots of wine down the front of his waistcoat. Then there is Alexander, seemingly the most put together of the lot. Washington’s eyes move accusingly towards the barrel of wine perched up on the table then to the Marquis. 

“I am to assume there is reason for such merriment and...drama.” he says, stressing the last word as his gaze rakes over John’s most improper display. 

The Marquis, unwilling to allow his friends to fall into disfavour at his own doing, steps forward. “It was my plan, Sir. A barrel of Madeira found its way into my headquarters and I wished to share the good fortune.”

With a heavy eye Washington looks from each man, back to the barrel of wine then over to his wife. Martha now stands with her hat and cloak removed, evidently hung by the door while she waited for her husband to resolve the situation. Taking a moment of deliberation he looks back to John with raised eyebrows, both inquisitive and accusing. “And this...display?”

The Marquis drags his eyes slowly from Washington over to John, knowing he can be of no help. John clears his throat, his adam's apple bobbing in his uncertainty. 

“That would be my doing, Sir.” Alexander pipes up quickly, stepping forward as if to shield John from suspicion. “Merely I inquired the ways of feminine cleverness of which I am not privy to in its secrecy. John offered to be of service and I fear we may have allowed ourselves to be less than sensible.” 

“Ah…” is all Washington says, giving each man another speculative glance. Anticipation hangs in the air, the four gentlemen waiting with bated breath as their commander seems to loom in the doorway.

Finally, after what feels like minutes with the clock in the hallway ticking by, Washington’s passive face breaks into a grin. “Then I would think that Hamilton need powdered cheeks and John play the gentry. You do have the flare for the dramatics, yes?” he says, looking at Alexander whose cheeks suddenly flare an outstanding shade of red. 

Kidder is the first to break, both nervous and amused laughter erupting from him as Washington removes his hat and steps into the room. Relief washes over each man as the Marquis greets the General with an outstretched hand and Martha follows him into the room with her own pleased smile.

“You said a Madeira?” Washington asks the Marquis as Martha occupies herself with John’s antics. 

“Oui, oui, General.” The Marquis says as he swiftly grabs a clean glass and indulges their commander. “It is beautiful, a sweet taste. Is a shame we have no chocolate,” he says, filling the glass generously before handing it over, ”but this will have to do, no?”

While Washington expresses his gratitude Martha has requested John’s fan, opening it and holding it in her left hand. The way her wrist bends, her fingers fold gently at the handle, she immediately displays an air of elegance that John most certainly had no hope of mimicking. “You see, gentleman,” she says to both John and Alexander, “One mustn’t make a show of such work, less it take away from the beauty of the bearer.” 

“To this, I would think it impossible, Lady.” Alexander says, forcing John to deliberately abstain from rolling his eyes at his obvious attempts at admiration. 

Martha, not immune to such flattery, brings the fan to her face to hide her flushed cheeks and fans herself slowly. “Dear Hamilton, flattering as you may be, a Lady knows how to direct such attention.” At her last words she snaps her fan shut in her right hand, causing both men to startle a laugh, and twirls it in her hand, Hamilton’s eyes following the object diligently as if she flourishes a weapon. 

“Ah, you see? The eyes follow what we wish, gentlemen.” Martha says with a smile before handing the fan back to John.

‘Hamilton,” Alexander looks behind Martha to Washington who has called him, now standing with a glass of wine in the company of both the Marquis and Richard. 

Washington gestures next to him at the empty space and Hamilton bows his head to Martha. “Excuse me, Lady. John,” he says, giving John a nod before making his way across the room. 

John, now alone with Martha, takes a handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and begins removing the powder from his cheeks. He only just conserves a blush with effort, clearing his throat as Martha watches him with some interest. 

“I may inquire as to where you learned such gestures, Mr. Laurens? If not for the sake of curiosity alone.” she says, looking away momentarily to graciously accept a glass of wine Alexander has brought her. 

Alexander gives John a telling look before he excuses himself back into the company of their General. John, wholly ignoring Hamilton’s gaze, continues to remove the last of the powder as he gives Miss Washington a warm smile. The lie he tells is as smooth as warm butter on bread, said with an easy smile, soft eyes and a tone that brushes against humor. “A bit of theatrics I found myself indulging in while schooling in France, I dare say, shameful as it may be.”

“In France, you say? Dear Laurens, I took you to be British educated.” Martha says, giving John an impressed look as she lavishes him. “I do suppose your fluency should be more telling, of course. I hope I haven’t offended.”

John, never tired of his charming nature, drops his hand fan open and places it infront of his cheek shyly. “Lady Washington, you could never supply such indignation, being such fine company.”

Martha can’t help herself, she lets out a delighted laugh at John’s display, John closing the fan allowing his grin to be seen in earnest. Across the room Alexander can’t help but notice the display, grinning to himself despite not being privy to their conversation. Martha says something to John who in turn twirls the closed fan in his right hand absentmindedly as he replies. 

Alexander watches curiously, all but ignoring the General and Lafayette who are speaking animatedly about the arrival of French relief. John continues speaking to Martha who gives him an inquisitive look. Alexander can only assume she asks John a question who, absentmindedly Alexander is sure, places the closed fan against his right cheek while simultaneously replying, “No.”

Unable to help himself Alexander allows himself a small huff of a laugh, only just expressed loud enough for close, attentive company to hear. He wonders if John realizes he uses the fan to emphasize his words or if he is still making a show for Lady Washington. Before he can approach and inquire Lafayette nudges his arm, stealing Alexander’s attention away. 

“What do you think, Hamilton?” Lafayette asks, leaving Hamilton to scamper for what he recalls of their conversation. About all he thinks is how he greatly wants to sequester John away to the small attic upstairs, kiss his unpowdered cheeks and enjoy his charming company without prying eyes. 

“I believe this wine to be of absolute luxury, Marquis.” he says gracefully, not daring to confess his absentmindedness. It is only when his bemused thoughts settle at the declaration that yes, he will steal John away for himself later, he is able to focus on the company before him, chatting idly into the night.


End file.
